


Control, Cowardice, and Courage

by tensblake



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Denial, Endgame, Eventual Smut, Everyone Is Alive, Everyone is alive eventually, F/M, Fashion & Couture, Grief/Mourning, I Don't Even Know, Mutual Pining, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Panic Attacks, Pining, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Endgame, fashion - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-06-26 06:35:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19762576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tensblake/pseuds/tensblake
Summary: You're not sure how this power came to you, but you're certain of one thing – no one is ever going to find out you have it. You've worked hard to build a normal life since the trauma you experienced in the Battle of New York. You don't need any of that superhero stuff mucking that up.So, when Tony Stark demands that you train at Stark Tower to help defend the planet against a Kree invasion force, you wonder how the hell he found out after you'd been so careful to conceal your biggest secret. It's going to take the work of quite a  few of the Avengers to get you to crack. The beautiful, quiet Sergeant James Barnes is the hardest one to fend off.Between his big blue eyes, soft smiles, and soothing presence, you know you're nearly done for. Can you overcome your obsessive need for control and find the will to admit the truth of the extent of your powers and your feelings?(First fic; please be gentle.)





	1. To the Tower

You loved to read. Non-fiction and science fiction were you go-tos for pleasure and you spent at least an hour reading various news beats every morning. You couldn’t call reading a hobby – it was more like second nature. So, when it happened, you knew exactly what to do. You had already read all about it. 

You had read about enhanced individuals; everything available in newspapers as well as the few natural science publications and policy papers that were available to the public. They were people from all walks of life. Driven by ideology, revenge, ambition, or discovery, they either let some brilliant scientist experiment on them or experimented on themselves. Then there were the unlucky ones. They had become enhanced because someone dumped chemicals on them or because they’d been too close to an experiment gone awry. No matter the case, the results were often extraordinary, catastrophic, or some combination of the two. 

You’d also read about the mutants, the inhumans, the people with suits, others with fantastic weapons, and those with incredible artificial prosthesis and implants. Good or bad, stealthy or flamboyant, loyal or treacherous, cowardly or brave, the same thing happened to all these people. Absolute disaster. 

The multiple alien invasions were evidence enough, but the destruction of any number of major cities really clenched it for you. The enhanced, the mutants, the weaponized, the bionic – all of those _supers_ were disaster-adjacent individuals and it was best to stay the hell away from them. If you couldn’t stay away, you sure as hell had better stay out of their way. Death and destruction trailed behind those people regardless of their intentions. You knew that first hand. So, when it happened, you knew it exactly what to do. 

Absolutely nothing. 

Sure, you had felt it that day. You’d irresponsibly tried to your bike ride through some inactive construction on the way home from work and you’d nearly fallen off when attempting to speed over some gravel. When you’d almost hit the ground, the bike had stopped. The bike halted its movement ten centimeters from the pavement and your foot hit solid ground less than a second later. Just a moment before hitting the ground, your bicycle had stopped and just... _didn’t fall over_. 

You’d have written the whole thing off as your imagination, but you had circled around the bike quickly prior to pulling it up, remounting, and riding your merry way home. You might have written the incident off as some weird physical, gravitational phenomena in the area, but sometimes, faintly, you could still feel whatever it was thrumming in the background. 

That said, you _weren’t_ one of them. 

You were sure you weren’t. There were the negative test results of the x-gene test they’d administered when you were in high school to prove it. Your parents and many others had opposed the backwards policy that tested old and new blood work for the x-gene. Unfortunately, your and your family’s dna had been run through that fascist database before Congress could halt the program. You all tested negative, but you still bristled at the violation of your privacy rights and raged for all the unlucky mutants that had been outed and subsequently persecuted. You didn’t go to any protests, but you voted the right way and hoped for the best. Fortunately, with all the alien shit that had gone down in the last seven years, some politicians were starting to wise up and treat mutants like regular citizens.

You told yourself all this didn’t necessarily mean anything about you. The world was a deeply chaotic mess. It could have been any one of the many side effects of these marvelous, terrible occurrences planet Earth had endured in the decade since Tony Stark revealed himself to the world as Iron Man. 

It could have been anything. 

It wasn’t worth mentioning to anyone. Ever. 

That’s what you kept chanting to yourself as you sat across from the skittish scientist in the main conference room of your downtown office. Last week his representative called and insisted to your boss that you came highly recommended and he just had to work with you. While you were a rising star at the very small, very selective public relations and image consulting firm you’d worked for since you’d arrived in New York, it was odd for a client, let alone a scientist, to come in and request someone other than one of the firm’s partners to work with directly. You did your job best when you were working quickly and discreetly. To have been sought out by name was a concern, but your boss thought the proposed budget was a business opportunity too good to ignore.

That morning as you continued your research on the client and his request, you wondered what could have possibly brought this guy your way. You’d found absolutely nothing on the internet about him. Zilch. Frankly, the lack of available data smacked of a major powerplayer. Stark Industries, the U.S. government, Oscorp, Wilson Fisk’s criminal network, the Hardy Foundation, or even the ever-crumbling Hammer Industries. Them and a few others had the resources to make someone mostly disappear from the internet. Lucky for you, no one who appeared on the internet was ever truly gone from it. 

Some digging revealed this scientist was an expert in the field of gamma radiation. A deeper dive into the field revealed he now probably used a pseudonym, Robert Jekyll, on all of his current research that he chose to make available to the public. All the major academic papers on gamma radiation cited the research of “Dr. Jekyll,” some referencing his theoretical work on a gamma bomb and gamma ray-powered machines. You couldn’t find any information on those, which meant that the defense departments of the U.S. and the E.U. were keeping it under lock and key. Too bad for them the brilliance of Dr. Robert Bruce Banner’s research was the pride of his hometown, Dayton, Ohio. The Dayton Daily News never missed an opportunity to report on the discoveries or prizes of their native son since he graduated from high school. What the government couldn’t erase was found in microform at Milstein. You’d called your boss immediately to relate your discovery and she insisted on you attending keeping the requested one-on-one meeting, hoping you would get a rare peek into the lives of one of the Avengers and find out why he wouldn’t take advantage of Stark Industries’ own public relations department.

One thing was immediately clear – he wasn’t here for an overhaul of his public image. Dr. Banner feigned interest and failed to hide his revulsion as you politely reviewed multimedia image strategy with him. That your boss usually handled the strategy and your job was to research anything and everything. You’d always had a penchant for discerning when a potential client might be wasting your time and this guy, this Bruce Banner, had set off your alarms. After you finished your summary of the firm’s services and he finally spoke, your suspicions of his intentions were confirmed. 

“You know, I think you and me are a lot alike,” he smiled shyly. 

“How so?” you scrunched your eyebrows. 

“Hiding in plain sight. Denial. It can make you feel like you’re in control. And I’ve got to say, you have control like nothing I have ever seen before. Much better than I’ve managed. But I can tell you from experience that avoiding it doesn’t make it go away.”

That hit a little too close to home. Before you could think about it too much, you chose to deflect.

“Dr. Banner, I think there may have been some misunderstanding. As I said, I serve the firm in a fact finding and oppositional research capacity. Hiding, or being behind-the-scenes as I call it, is part of my job. My boss [Beata](https://i2-prod.mirror.co.uk/incoming/article13874903.ece/ALTERNATES/s615/3_Nicole-Kidman-in-Los-Angeles.jpg) can come up with a failsafe strategy to help you recreate your public image and get people excited about your science initiatives. Certainly something better than a pseudonym as obvious as _Dr. Jekyll_. When you’re ready to pursue that, I’ll be more than happy to be part of the team that takes on the case. I’m so sorry you came all the way downtown. Please feel free to contact me or my colleagues in the future.”

You closed your portfolio, rose abruptly, and extended your manicured hand to him. Dr. Banner didn’t seem to know what to do with your tight smile of finality. He opened his mouth and closed it. Shrugging helplessly, he recovered from his shock and tried again. 

“Look, I think – I mean, I am interested in working with you, but– ”

His stumbling was interrupted by a hard knock on the conference room’s clear glass door then _your_ mouth fell open. Tony Stark, looking as rich and immaculate as he always did on television, waltzed in the room.

“Is it alright if I go ahead and interrupt this?” he waggled his finger between you and Dr. Banner, “Bruce, I gave you your shot. Let’s go with Plan B. Listen, kid, the jig is up, we know you have some pretty damn stunning abilities, there’s some nasty action brewing in the city, and we want your help to stop it.” 

You tried to hold in your scoff, flabbergasted. “Um, Mr. Stark. It’s a pleasure to see you here at our firm. I’m not sure what you’ve heard about my abilities in oppositional research, but I assure you that everyone here would be happy to work alongside Stark Industries PR on whatever initiatives Ms. Potts-Stark has for us.” 

He tilted his head, not bothering to remove his [aviators](https://66.media.tumblr.com/d50951d0d8740e0dff8758c7152a098a/tumblr_inline_pq2kgp46eG1w9xjjt_540.jpg). “Heh, you’re good. I’ll give you that. A lesser man would have let you sail right through that.”

“Tony, could you be a little more subtle? I thought the whole point of coming down here like this was discretion,” Dr. Banner complained, half to himself. 

“Look, Bruce, that incredible shawarma place is close by and it closes at three o’clock to get ready for the dinner crowd at 4:30. We’ve got a brief window of opportunity here and I don’t want to miss it. If we lock down denial kid over here, we can get shawarma, get her acquainted with the tower, and I can get a good hour in the lab before my presentation thing at six. We’ll let her boss know we want her to hang around with us for the day and it’ll be all good. Come on, chop chop.” 

He headed for the conference room door, already flipping through the holographic projection of his StarkTech phone. Bruce looked helplessly from you to Tony and rose to follow the billionaire out. Your palms twitched. You were quickly losing control of this situation. You’d really regret walking through that door without trying to dissuade him again.

“Mr. Stark, I really don’t think my research abilities are what you and your Avengers may need– ”

“We’re not _my_ Avengers. We’re _the_ Avengers. We kind of belong to Earth and are directed by me and Rogers. Formed by Fury. Technically in consultation with the U.N., sans the Accords, if you want to be really official about it– ”

“Be that as it may,” you interrupted politely, “I can’t help you fight battles outside of the press. That said, this firm is ready to present any research Dr. Banner wants to get out there. We have a contact at the Daily Bugle that I can get to do a byline by week’s end if this is a rapid campaign.”

You’d poured every ounce of earnestness you could muster into those last few sentences, hoping your desperation came off like an ambitious salesperson in pursuit of the ultimate deal. You’d worked hard to craft this very normal life for yourself over the past few years. If you needed to put on an Oscar-winning performance to maintain it, so be it.

Stark halted his exit and turned on his heel to consider you. He narrowed his eyes, looked at Dr. Banner in question, and then surged forward. You leaned stepped back, but not too much. The semblance of control was important if wanted to pull this off. After three tense seconds of scrutiny his face dropped back to irreverence. 

“Okay, first of all, can you chill with the all the damn corporate speak? It’s exhausting. Half the fun of doing this Avengers gig is _not_ having to hear all that. Second of all, do you really not know what you can do? Bruce said there’s no way you don’t know what’s up and I trust him implicitly. Third of all, it doesn’t really matter if you don’t know because if you don’t, then I guess we’ll all have to figure it out. Invaders are invading, shawarma restaurants are going to close for the afternoon break soon, and time is wasting. Let’s move! F.R.I.D.A.Y., tell Happy to take the car to the shawarma place. In this traffic it’ll be faster if we walk there.”

This time he didn’t stop on his way out. Dr. Banner simply shrugged. “I’m really sorry. That happens a lot. I promise this will all be easier if we just follow him and have a chicken shawarma sandwich. You do eat chicken, right?”

You let go of the breath you were holding and held your hand in the air as if to ask him to stop. Pinching your forehead you struggled to find your words through your distress. 

“Hold up! Did he say ‘invaders invading?’ I could swear he said that.”

Dr. Banner sighed, “Like I said, easier after shawarma. I’ll explain more on the way.”

The shawarma was everything Stark had hyped it up to be. The spices gave it a rare home-cooked taste that was hard to find when dining out in New York City. It was enough to help you stomach what Stark and Dr. Banner laid on you. 

Earth’s mightiest heroes were expecting a battle of epic proportions in a few months time. This time it was the Kree, a race of warrior conquerors led by some crazed artificial intelligence. Apparently, they had come to the conclusion that a world that produced the woman that became Captain Marvel and the majority of the other heroes that defeated Thanos could not be allowed to stand. The Avengers would tell the world tomorrow morning and evacuations of major metropolitan areas would likely begin after that. It was an ‘all hands on deck’ situation and Tony Stark regarded you as a hand. 

You now stood in front of Stark Tower with a leather duffle [bag](https://shop.nordstrom.com/s/frye-logan-leather-overnight-bag-online-only/3739573?origin=keywordsearch-personalizedsort&breadcrumb=Home%2FAll%20Results&color=cognac) and aluminium packing [case](https://shop.nordstrom.com/s/rimowa-original-check-in-medium-26-inch-packing-case/5102642?origin=keywordsearch-personalizedsort&breadcrumb=Home%2FAll%20Results&color=silver), trying to tamp down the urge to vomit. You knew walking through the glitzy glass doors of the front lobby would signify the loss of your carefully crafted, stable life. You looked the professional in the leather trim stretch-wool [dress](https://www.saksfifthavenue.com/ralph-lauren-collection-evelina-leather-trim-stretch-wool-dress/product/0400011153798?FOLDER%3C%3Efolder_id=2534374306436538&R=889959365398&P_name=Ralph+Lauren+Collection&N=306436538&bmUID=mK.dXft) Beata squeezed you into last night during a hastily made appointment at Saks Fifth Avenue, but you hardly felt like it. 

_“Beata, this is what you wear to work, not me. This is practically a body-con dress! Clearly made for someone with your figure, not mine.”_

_“Dress to impress, my dear protege. That dress looks amazing in any size. Get comfy, because I’m sending you home with six or seven cheaper numbers just like it. Besides, we both know you’re not going there to work on a PR campaign. Whatever it is, we have to find out. Looking serious makes people take you more seriously.”_

_“My wardrobe is serious!”_

_“It’s professional, even trendy at times. It’s not very stylish – there is a difference. Now relax and let me spend some of Tony Stark’s money on you. This account is already huge and we don’t even have a project scope yet.”_

_“How can you be so chill about this? The Earth– ” you stopped yourself and looked around for the dressing room attendant. When you were satisfied she was gone you leaned toward Beata and hissed sotto voce, “ –the Earth is about to be invaded! You’re single with seven year old twins!”_

_“Meh, I’ve already got the nanny packing them up. The three of them and her kid are flying out to my parents in Flagstaff in two hours. Mama’s gotta make the bacon; private school and fencing camp doesn’t pay for themselves. Anyway, why are you_ not _chill about this, Little Miss Queen of Cool? We both survived the Battle of New York when Loki and those bastards took a sledgehammer to Manhattan. We survived the Snap, the Blip – whatever the hell they're calling it now. I’ve told you a million times: the best way to survive this stuff is to keep moving.”_

_“If you can call it surviving,” you mumbled._

_“Yeah, and that. That right there is also why I want you to go. You’ve been working like a dog since the Battle of New York, thinking if you keep things orderly enough you can forget that you’re still grieving. They’re paying your rent while you’re staying there. Think of it like an adventurous vacation. Hopefully you’ll make some friends in that tower, live a little more life.”_

_“Beata, we’ve now passed the boundary of what’s appropriate discussion for this meeting,” you said in clipped voice, refusing to acknowledge her as you stared ahead and adjusted your new work dress in the mirror._

_Beata held up her hands. “Okay, protege, point taken. I just – it would be nice if you could try to get something out of this, too. You never know what life could throw at you. Keep your chin up and your eyes open.”_

You raised your head and took a deep breath as you remembered her words. How were you going to pull this off? You just wanted to go back to your desk and search databases. What right did Tony Stark have to blow up your life? 

“You’re looking at the building like it’ll disappear if you take your eyes off of it,” a soft, deep voice commented casually from behind you. Soft and deep; you briefly pondered the weird juxtaposition and turned around. 

A tall, bearded, broad shouldered man in a baseball cap, sunglasses, and a red henley stood over you. It was a hot and humid summer morning and you wondered how he could be comfortable in the long sleeved shirt and loose hair that just touched his shoulders. Then you saw it – the left gloved hand that gave away his identity. In fear of seeming starstruck, you tried to feign not recognizing him. 

“Something like that. I guess that means it’s time for me to head inside.” You turned back around and did your best to balance on your heels with your new luggage only to have him, the Winter Soldier himself, grab the handle of the case. You froze and looked at him in question. 

“Here, let me. It’s the least I can do for someone that made me so quickly. You’ve got a good eye. Probably why Stark insisted on you joining up so quickly,” he said quietly as he relieved you of the bags. You had to strain to hear him in the hustle and bustle of the Midtown pedestrian traffic in front of the tower entrance. 

He didn’t move as you stood staring up at him in shock. He knew about you? Had Stark sent him out to look for you? 

“Uh, I’m– ”

“Don’t worry,” he smiled gently and said your name. “Stark and Banner did tell us all about you, but they didn’t send me out here after you. Just a coincidence. Saw you shaking in your boots and decided to say hello. I can tell you, being around these people can be intimidating, but it gets better after a while.” 

His friendliness caught you off guard. You had trouble reconciling the quiet, kind, hulking man before you with the vicious soldier you’d seen so many times on the news. There was more going on here than a simple meet and greet wasn’t there? You quickly tried to regain your footing in the exchange. _Chin up, eyes open._

“Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner told you all about me? May I ask what all that entailed?” you asked, arching a neatly trimmed eyebrow. 

He pulled his lips between his teeth and lowered his head. It was almost as if he thought your show of a challenge was a disappointment. That stung for some reason.

“Come on. I’ll tell you while we head upstairs,” he stated simply and cocked his head toward the entrance. You nodded with bland smile and tottered behind him as fast as you could in the stiletto [sandals](https://www.saksfifthavenue.com/stuart-weitzman-nudist-stiletto-sandals/product/0400010773445?FOLDER%3C%3Efolder_id=2534374306624247&R=808618195107&P_name=Stuart+Weitzman&Ntt=Stuart+Weitzman&N=306624247) Beata had insisted upon. You were thankful when he slowed a little, stepping in-line with you.

“Thanks. For slowing down I mean,” you mumbled in appreciation. 

“Sure. I don’t think you’ll have much use for shoes like that over the next week or so though.”

“Oh?”

“It’ll be difficult to train in them.”

You’d reached the main lobby and breezed past the security line. Apparently walking in beside Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes came with some privileges. The sergeant led you to a door at the end of the elevator bank that blended in with the marble walls. He swung your duffle to the shoulder of his arm that dragged the packing case and placed the palm of his gloved vibranium hand flat against the door.

“Welcome back, Bucky,” the voice of an Irish woman resonated around you. The door opened with a hiss and revealed its quite thick locking mechanisms. “You have a guest this morning?”

He glanced back at you and removed his dark [ sunglasses](https://www.saksfifthavenue.com/moncler-57mm-sunglasses/product/0400099494619?FOLDER%3C%3Efolder_id=2534374306418210&R=750666120429&P_name=Moncler&N=306418210&bmUID=mLsjCGc). Up to this point, you had only been able to see yourself reflected in the lenses, so when his startling caerulean eyes settled on you, you were surprised and transfixed.

“Something like that,” he remarked as he continued to look you in the eyes. 

You had to look away. _He’s beautiful._ That was the first thought in your head. You ducked your head and smiled in acknowlegement of his twist on your words. It was all you could manage as you followed him past the door and into a smaller private elevator. He set your bags down when you entered and stepped back out.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., take her to Stark, please.”

“Certainly, Bucky,” the voice responded. 

Your hand jutted out to stop the doors. Suddenly the idea of parting with his warm, soft presence was terrifying. “Sergeant Barnes, wait!”

His forehead furrowed in concern and he edged closer to the elevator doors. Instead of saying anything he waited for you to elaborate. Digging deep, you mustered up the nerve to look confident. It would be weak to say that you wanted him to stay with you, that you needed someone right now. So, you settled for a mundane inquiry instead.

“Why won’t I want these shoes when I’m training? I’m a researcher. I’ll just kick them off as soon as I sit at my desk.”

Sergeant Barnes’ chuckle was low, quick, and sweet-tempered. You would have missed it if it hadn’t been for the absolute silence beyond the secret elevator door. He waved his right hand and the elevator doors began to close. They shut just after his response. 

“The team decided it would be best if Natasha and I led your training. See you tomorrow morning.”


	2. Work It Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all those who commented and left kudos on the first chapter. I really appreciate your kind words and recognition. 
> 
> The hyperlinks in the chapter are for fashion and interior design appreciation only They have no bearing on the story. Please feel free to skip them if that’s not your thing. 

Somehow, some way, you made it to the Avenger’s main training facility on one of the upper tower floors at 4:30 a.m. the next morning. When settling into the [luxurious, minimal studio](http://cdn-for-hk.img-sys.com/comdata/56654/201809/20180903212411b337f4.jpg) that had been designated as yours the previous evening, the disembodied Irish voice (who you know knew as the AI F.R.I.D.A.Y.), gave you a rundown of your first week. You were to report to the training facility at 5:00 a.m.

You had never been a morning person. To combat that, each night you went to bed at 10:30 sharp in order to wake up at 6:30 in the morning and show up at the office two hours later. You’d just have to shift your schedule a bit to remain punctual. When you asked F.R.I.D.A.Y. to shade your windows and turn off your lights at 8:30 p.m., she knew exactly what you were up to. 

“Trying to get the jump on the trainers are we now?” she seemed to chuckle. 

“Trying,” you replied and rolled over in the most plush bed you’d ever had the pleasure of sleeping in. 

You'd been scared to eat too much that morning. What if they made you run laps? Barfing up your typical breakfast fare would be a bad look for the first day. You stuck to a small fruit smoothie. You loved your bicycle, but there was no way you were as fit as the Black Widow. You’d seen her on television when she doxxed HYDRA. She wore a smart black linen blend suit and skirt with leather accents. It was a practical choice, but it was clear to anyone viewing that the girl was cut. You didn’t know why, but it felt right to be more wary of her than Sergeant Barnes. 

Ironically, you weren’t that nervous about them pressuring you to acknowledge the power that hummed through you. All you had to do was stick to the script. Soon they’d realize that it would be safer and better for everyone if they just let you go home. 

The dark training room illuminated as soon as you crossed the double doored threshold. The floor-wide space featured every piece of gym and athletic equipment you’d ever seen and several you couldn’t identify. Most intriguing were the rockwall and boxing ring. You’d never seen a boxing ring in person before, but you knew this one was very nice. You would have thought it was brand new if not for the prominent scuff marks that littered the mat. They were probably the product of some super powered person’s rough steps and shifts around the ring. 

You reached out to test the tension of the ropes when a figure in black dropped into the middle of the mat with a short thud. 

“BAHHH!” you shouted and backed away as your heart tried to thud its way out of your chest. Before you the Black Widow crouched in a pose that could be described as cinematic. One slender arm jutted out behind her for balance while the fingertips of the other graced the floor. One knee was bent against the mat in a right angle and her other leg extended in a straight balletic line in the opposite direction. 

Her green eyes glittered with mischief as she held your gaze. “You’re early, dressed and ready. I like that.”

“What! Were you hanging from the ceiling? In the dark?!” you exclaimed as you caught your breath. 

She rose gracefully, sauntered across the mat, and silently vaulted herself over the ropes just a couple of steps in front of you. “You don’t spook easy. Maybe your control is just as good as Bruce says.” Although she looked you straight in the eyes, you felt like she was assessing your entire person. It made you squirm and you clutched you chest.

“Well, I certainly don’t feel like I’m in control, Ms. Romanoff.” 

She arched a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “We don’t stand on ceremony too much around here. You can call me Nat.” 

It took you a few moments, but you realized she’d extended her hand to you. You shook it and smiled in spite of yourself. She was nice enough – and clever. Nat had managed to avoid your question about hanging from the ceiling. You wouldn’t be able to bring it up again without risking awkwardness, which you had a feeling she knew you wouldn’t do. 

“Sure,” you replied. “Before we get started, I’d like to say that I’m really grateful to be working with the Avengers. That said, this is all completely outside of my wheelhouse. I do oppositional research for a PR firm, I’m certainly not in the physical shape that’s up to Avengers’ standards, and couldn’t dream to be in only three months time. I’m happy to continue this process on the insistence of Mr. Stark and my boss Beata Milbourne, but your time would be better spent preparing for the invasion – maybe with some of the other people F.R.I.D.A.Y. told me Dr. Banner and Mr. Stark recruited? Even if I have this power they’re after, I don’t know how I could master it enough in time.”

“How long did you work to prepare that speech?” she asked simply.

“Um,” you gulped, caught off guard by her directness, “Maybe five minutes last night and ten this morning?”

Nat set her lips in a firm line before speaking again. She was deciding on something, but you couldn’t figure out what it was. 

“Look, I get that it can be hard to bounce back from as much tragedy as you’ve experienced. Believe me, a lot of us can relate. But the bottom line is we know you’ve got the ability to stop things on a massive scale, it could save a lot of lives, and we need it. Right now. If startling you out of your wits isn’t going to get it done, then we’re going to find some other way. So, I suggest you set your coping mechanism for your grief aside and let us help you find the extent of what you can do.”

Nat had delivered her directive in a level voice, but there was no mistaking the determination in her voice. You’d been prepared to deny everything until it killed you, but when she mentioned your past, she put a dent in your resolve. You felt your stomach roll in on itself and nervousness flare in your ears and fingertips. Before it became too much, you took a deep breath and narrowed your eyes. 

“Please don’t mention my ‘trauma’ or make allusions to my family again. I don’t think I’ll be able to cooperate with this process if it happens again,” you tried to match her tone. You wanted there to be no mistake; this was one rubicon that couldn’t be crossed. 

“Ahem.” You started at the sound of a gruff throat clearing a few meters behind you and Nat. You both turned to see Sergeant Barnes, hands on his hips, [dressed](https://imgur.com/YuibrnE) in a black t-shirt and baseball cap and navy sweats for work out. Nat only nodded her head in acknowledgement, but you knew he had surprised her, too. 

“Looks like I’m late to the party?” 

“Yep, Buck.” Nat smiled and walked past the two of you toward the exit. “Lessons are over for today. See you both at 5:00 a.m. tomorrow. Nice outfit, by the way,” she threw back at you. You looked down to survey your [shirt, shorts, and tennis shoes](https://n.nordstrommedia.com/id/sr3/24ab1258-3edf-4895-8a88-b7747a5e967f.jpeg?crop=pad&pad_color=FFF&format=jpeg&w=780&h=1196) and when you looked up she was gone.

“Try not to judge Nat too harshly,” Sergeant Barnes said looking in the direction she had gone. “She’s just trying to get under your skin.”

“Wait, how long have _you_ been here?” Had he seen that entire exchange? You were thankful that blurting out the thought allowed you to redirect the conversation. Just the thought of him seeing Nat rile you up made you a tad queasy. Then something you never could have imagined happened. He blushed. 

“Um...I didn’t want to interrupt.” He kept his eyes off of you and shoved both arms in the pockets of his sweats. You tried to ignore the way the movement pushed them further down his waist, exposing a sliver of flesh that spanned the v of his pelvis. 

“Yeah…” you shrugged, “Well, Sergeant Barnes, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“My teammates call me Bucky.”

“Well, I’m happy to call you that, but I hardly feel like your teammate.”

“Give it time. In fact, I’m revoking Nat’s cancellation. Let’s start the traditional part of your training.”

“Traditional. I like the sound of traditional.”

“Good,” he smiled. “First up is a run. Just follow me, okay?”

“Sure. We’ll see how well I can follow a super soldier.”

“I’m not gonna push you more than your latest physical suggested you can handle.”

“Oh, my god!” Another wave of embarrassment flowed over you. 

Bucky’s thick eyebrows raised in alarm. “What’s wrong?”

“You’ve seen my latest physical? That’s mortifying. Shouldn’t that be for doctors’ eyes only?”

Now one of his eyebrows rose in what you suspected was skepticism. “You signed the forms before you came here, right?”

“Yeah, for medical stuff and a whole slew of other mundane corporate line items.”

“Well, your physical trainers are part of your med team.”

With that, he took off out of the training facility. Overcoming your initial shock, you scrambled after him. You were already panting when you made it the fifty meters to the door.

Until now, you hadn’t really appreciated the vast square footage of Start Tower. You ran and ran and ran. Up flights of stairs, down them, through offices with desks full of consultants, businesspeople, and attachés. Through kitchens, common areas, surveillance rooms. It seemed that no place in the building was off limits. No one batted an eye as you huffed and puffed behind Bucky. Either this was a common enough occurrence that it didn’t merit attention or no one wanted to risk staring cock-eyed at the former Winter Soldier. 

You knew Bucky kept an average human pace for your benefit. Even so, the average human would have outshined your performance. The bike commuting hadn’t been as much of a benefit as you thought – somewhere between the third and the fourth kilometer you had to slow your pace. 

You didn’t stop though. If this was another test, you wanted to pass it. Every time you felt you couldn’t go on, you shuffled your feet in place, ignored Bucky as he waited several meters ahead, took ten seconds to breathe, and then slowly started up and running again. A few of the times you pushed yourself further, you thought you saw Bucky give you a sidelong face with a grin before resuming.

Maybe you were a bit of a masochist. Maybe Nat’s intrusive questions really had gotten to you. Maybe the thought of pleasing Bucky made you more than a little bit giddy – you’d have to examine that one later. At the moment, you were focusing on not falling over. If nothing else, the view of his ass was a motivator. It was important for you to keep your eyes trained on the leader, right? 

After the first hour you’d given up on figuring out any kind of recognizable route or destination, so when Bucky came to a halt in the massive training room you started this torture march in, you were surprised. It seemed too good to be true so you shuffled in place, pathetically mimicking the movements of jogging. 

“We’re done.”

You immediately found the nearest mat and collapsed. In normal circumstances you’d be worried about the unseen bacteria on the mat’s plastic surface, but the coolness of it against your cheek felt too good for germs to be of any concern. You turned your head to treat your other cheek and rolled your eyes upward to hazard a glance at Bucky. 

Hands on his hips, he stared down at you with a bored indifference. Too tired to feel shame, you wiggled your shoulders in an attempt to shrug them. “What, man?”

The corner of Bucky’s mouth ticked as if he were suppressing a smirk. You must have made a pretty goofy picture, completely prone and unmoving on the mat save for the movement of your lips and your eyes. All the images you’d ever seen of him in the media showed him determined, stone-faced, and terrifying. The idea of making him smile made you eager and suddenly you were biting your lip to hold back a grin.

“We’re done with the run. We’re not done for today. Come on; sit up.”

You lifted one hand and let it float a short distance above the mat. “Help me up.”

Bucky didn’t dignify that with a response. He only looked down at you askance. “Sit up.”

“Help meeee,” you mumbled your plea, “I saw the commercials. The Avengers is about teamwork, Bucky. Help your fetching yet weak and out-of-shape teammate.” 

He couldn’t hold back his snort as you wiggled your fingers in the air, sensing victory. Sure enough, he stepped forward took your hand in his much larger one. In the span of a nanosecond you were pulled off the mat and deposited on your feet. Bucky didn’t wait for you to catch your breath. “Just this one time. Now try to do what I do.”

He led you through a series of stretches, not unlike what you used to do after your junior high and high school soccer drills. Bucky was more adept at the stretches than you could ever hope to be. The muscles of his body bulged but he seemed as lithe as a professional dancer as he touched his fingertips to his far spread legs. You were happy to have free reign to just stare at him. The thought had you tamping down the urge to snicker. 

“What’s so funny?” Bucky asked. His big blue eyes found yours and you raised your brows as if caught. 

“I was just remembering that I used to do some of these in soccer practice back in the day,” you lied.

“Mmhm,” he replied skeptically and maintained his challenging stare. 

“Well, if you’re expecting me to elaborate, you’re going to be disappointed,” you protested.

“Your file didn’t mention that you ever played soccer.”

You snorted with indignation. “I’ll have you know I was on the varsity soccer team!”

“How many times did you start?” he asked, continuing his nimble movements.

“Look, the amount of time I played the field isn’t what’s relevant here. Besides, we had a lot more moral victories than, well, _actual_ victories.”

He let out a full laugh at that one. Gold. That was your first thought. You craved those laughs of his. When you smiled back he seemed to catch himself and returned his face to the seriousness it held before. 

“And technically everyone was on varsity because there were only enough players for one team and a few subs. All girls private school,” you muttered. 

Bucky shook his head and looked down and you knew it was because he was trying to contain himself. You pushed yourself through the rest of the stretches and tried not whine out loud when he led you toward a weight room adjacent to the large one with the boxing ring. 

Bucky spotted you as you did the bench press, squats, and curls. Seeing him lift up and rack the weights you struggled to lift with just one of his hands was amazing. You felt like a giddy teen admiring all the astonishing strength that just seemed natural to these superheroes. While you found yourself enjoying the close proximity, you couldn’t help but wonder why it was one of the Avengers going through this work with you. Surely there must have been some trainer they could have assigned to you. It just didn’t make sense. 

“You know, Bucky, we’ve been at this for a couple of hours,” you bit out as you performed what he called Zottman curls. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, but I was wondering if there was some other stuff you had to do today. Surely there’s some private trainer that could do this work while you do some kind of stealthy reconnaissance or whatever you do in your spare time.”

“You’ve only been training one hour and forty-one minutes. You trying to get someone you can charm into going easy on you?”

“Nice deflection, man, but something is up. The top dogs don’t do the routine physical training with new recruits. It’s not efficient, and something tells me the Avengers are nothing if not efficient.”

Bucky kept his eyes straight ahead, looking at the mirror behind you as he did the same curls with 200 kilogram dumbbells. You didn’t even know they made 200 kilogram dumbbells. The muscles of his flesh arm bulged each time the dumbells reached his shoulder level and the vibranium arm rested at his side. He was stoic again, not one bead of sweat on his body. You thought he wouldn’t answer, but he surprised you with his reply. 

“Look, you’re right. We don’t usually take on this type of training for recruits, but you’re no regular recruit. Stark and Banner say you’ve got something. Nat thinks you’ve got it, and when it comes to her, you’d be better off not resisting.”

“What about you?” 

“What about me?”

You sighed, “Do _you_ think I’ve got whatever the hell it is they think I have?”

“I know you do,” Bucky answered immediately without breaking his reps. “I know that you know that you do. Know why you won’t admit it either.”

Your heart beat rapidly and you were sure it was going to fly out of your chest. You struggled to maintain your composure. “So, let’s say that’s all true. Why haven’t you told your colleagues?”

“Nice try,” he rolled his eyes. He wasn’t going to give up any info on their conversations about you unwillingly. You were secretly glad he hadn’t revealed anything. It seemed the Winter Soldier wasn’t just some meathead and you even felt bad for guessing that he might have been. 

“I know what it’s like to be scared of yourself and of what you can do. We don’t have time to help you deal with that, but I hope I– I hope we can do you some good between now and the invasion.”

Your breath hitched at his words. You thought you’d been steering the conversation. It turned out that Bucky Barnes had turned the tables on you with only a few sentences. Perhaps this conversation was his goal all along. Wear you down physically until your mind was mush and you were susceptible to his gently spoken prompts. His words hit home and you continued the rest of workout in dutiful silence. It was only the first day of training and your resistance had started to fray.


	3. Hide and Seek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the next one should probably be combined. I'll try to post the next one today or tomorrow. 
> 
> Thanks to all for the words of encouragement.

You sipped leisurely on a post-training smoothie in the banquette of the Avengers’ common room kitchen. In the month since you’d lived in the tower, you found you liked the common kitchen much more than your own. It was always stocked with nearly every fresh food imaginable. At first you thought it gratuitous, but F.R.I.D.A.Y. informed you that there were a number of super appetites coming in and out of the Avengers floors, and all that didn’t get eaten was donated before it spoiled. Raiding the common fridge felt more natural to you than ordering groceries for the kitchenette in your studio. Your were sore from today’s session, but not nearly as much as those first two weeks. It was strange to feel your body changing, getting stronger. You found you liked the strength and agility you were gaining – mostly thanks to the placid tutelage of Bucky and a heaping dose of pressure from Nat. 

Today she’d really put the pressure on. You’d just stopped sweating from the effort. You smiled at the half-assed victory you’d achieved earlier that morning during the first hour of the session.

_ “Okay, that was good,” Nat praised your progress in hand to hand combat drills. “I want to try something a little different though. You aren’t always going to be able to take down your opponent. The best offense you can have in those situations is good defence. I’m going to try to land a punch on you. Do your best not to let me. Ready?” _

_You nodded and as soon as Nat took a fighting position you whipped your soggy_ [_sweatband_](https://cache.net-a-porter.com/images/products/1060748/1060748_in_pp.jpg) _off your forehead, threw it at her face, and sprinted in the opposite direction. You didn’t look back as you heard Bucky’s uncontrolled cackling and you didn’t stop when you heard Nat shout, “Ew!” You just kept running as fast as you could out of the training facility._

_ Thanks to Bucky’s cross-building runs you knew the fastest way off the floor wasn’t through the main elevator or stairwell. It was through a maintenance elevator that was reached only through a maintenance room in the elevator bank. Before boarding it, you thought better of it and jumped down the trash chute before you could convince yourself not to. _

_ You landed in a thankfully dry and not quite soft pile of industrial black garbage bags about four or five floors below.  _

_ “F.R.I.D.A.Y., what floor am I on?” you asked as you frantically climbed out of the large metal bin, pushing down your puzzlement at the short, nonplussed looks of the maintenance staff. Stuff like this likely happened to them all the time. _

_ “Seventy-seventh floor. You’re lucky I control the chutes for all Avenger’s waste or else you would have had quite the nasty fall, miss!” the AI rebuked you.  _

_ “Thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y.! Do me a favor? Don’t help them find me unless the game is really over?” _

_ “Sure. Not that it’ll do you much good against Agent Romanoff. Good luck.” _

_ You bolted out of the maintenance room and surveyed your options. You could hide on one of the maintenance carts and hope it would lead you around the building anonymously. You nixed that option – as soon as Nat realized you’d used the chute, she’d expect that. You darted into a large room full of analysts at their desks and spotted the perfect target.  _

_ You grabbed the shoulder of the large man playing solitaire at his station and spun him around in his swivel chair. “Hey, the Black Widow is trying to find me in a hide-and-seek training exercise. Hide me under your desk and I’ll owe you one.” _

_ The tall analyst looked back and forth in question. If his colleagues noticed his distress, they didn’t let on. They went about their business, not caring to entangle themselves with the weird, new, and reluctant Avenger. When he didn’t answer, you changed tactics. _

_ “Hide me or I’ll tell on you for playing solitaire!” _

_ “Okay, geez!” He pushed back, making way for you to crawl under his desk.  _

_ “Thanks!” you whispered as loud as you dared. _

_It was awkward, but you were well concealed. It had taken Nat twenty minutes to track you to the room of analysts and another two to pressure your analyst into raising his hand to give you up. When he pushed back to reveal you to a frustrated Nat and a still sniggering Bucky, you tossed one of your_[ _shoes_](https://c.static-nike.com/a/images/t_PDP_1280_v1/f_auto/zrcrgve6hzjwnolublbw/air-max-200-womens-shoe-NCL2b2.jpg) _at Nat. It bounced off her leg and she looked at you in dubious question._

_ “If that had been one of your special gadgets, you would be on the floor right now,” you said in explanation, still crouching in your makeshift hideaway. “Besides, it means I got the first hit and I win.”  _

_ With that you popped up and smiled at her gleefully. Nat had yet to say a word. Her now neutral face was impossible to read.  _

_ “I think she’s right, Nat,” Bucky chimed in behind her.  _

_ Rolling her eyes, Nat turned on him and placed her hands on her hips. You couldn’t see her face, but you could hear her scoff. Giving up, she trailed off ahead of you.  _

_ “You win that round, squirt. Back to the training room.” _

_ Squirt? You beamed at having earned a nickname, too. Maybe Nat didn’t want to crush you completely. You shared a furtive smile with Bucky who handed you your shoe and gestured for you to go first.  _

There had been a lot of that lately. Furtive smiles, catching each other staring, a lingering touch here or there, trying – and failing – to make jokes and faces behind Nat’s back. Last week you had faced the fact that you were nursing a big crush on the somber soldier, who wasn’t nearly as stern as you had expected. His rare smile turned the whole world bright. It almost made you want to give in, to reach out to someone, anyone, again. Almost.

“Like those smoothies I taught you how to make, huh?” Bucky flipped a few more slices of ham on the massive sandwich he prepared for himself. Even when he was standing nearby at the kitchen counter he consumed your thoughts.

“Yep.”

“Feeling pleased with yourself?” 

“Ha, definitely,” you replied from behind your smoothie, using it to hide a dastardly grin. 

“I can’t say I’ve ever seen anyone get the drop on Nat like  _ that _ before. You’re something else.”

Your eyes went wide as he took a chef’s knife and split the sandwich into three smaller ones. Your face remained hidden behind your drink while you attempted to calm the somersaults in your stomach. Bucky came to sit across from you and chomped down on his creation. After feeling sane again, you set the thermus down and marveled at the amount of food he was about to pack away. 

“Want some?” Bucky grabbed one sandwich and held it out you. 

“Nah. I’m just always amazed at how much you can eat. It’s not a gluttonous thing or anything – don’t get me wrong. I know you have superpowers, but I don’t think of you as having a supersized stomach in there.”

“Hmph!” Bucky laughed through a bite and hurried to swallow it. Grabbing a napkin to wipe his mouth, he shook his head. “I don’t think my stomach is supersized relative to any other organ in my body. The serum speeds up our metabolism.”

“Our?” you questioned, ignoring the opportunity for an easy joke about his organ size. You swore, when he did speak, he was oblivious to the way his words could be twisted for modern, more tawdry humor.

“Oh, yeah. Me and Steve. His serum is different than mine...better; but we still both process food and drink very quickly. We used to eat together like this a lot. It’s one of my favorite memories from before. Good to eat with friends.”

Friends. Bucky seemed like such a loner that sometimes you forgot he was half of one of history’s greatest friendships. The security status your position here had afforded you – you were constantly shocked by how much these people trusted you – revealed that Steve Rogers wasn’t gone forever as most of the world thought. He was just old, having chosen to live a peaceful life after the efforts of bringing everyone back from the Snap. You’d seen Steve at the tower just once – in surreptitious conversation with Bruce and Wanda. 

It happened quite by mistake – you were leaving the tower to enjoy a sunny day outside and had forgotten the rule that until you were deemed ‘trained’ by Nat, you had to carry a weapon when off of the tower’s premises. Under Nat and Bucky’s instruction, you felt more than competent with a concealed weapon, but you still weren’t thrilled at the rule. Weapons and violence just weren’t you. You were grumbling to yourself about it when you walked in on the trio in the large weapons room on the eighty-first floor. You knew Steve instantly. Even at one hundred and one, he didn’t look a day over sixty-eight. Respecting their privacy, you nodded with an awkward polite smile, grabbed a Udav pistol, and turned right back out of the room. 

The three of them seemed so tight knit. Their friendships had probably been cemented a thousand times over in battle and beyond. You’d wondered why Bucky wasn’t there, huddled with his friends.

Is that how Bucky thought of you? Part of you was thrilled. It had been a long time since you’d established any new relationships, friend or otherwise. Until this moment, you hadn’t acknowledged that deep, deep down you’d yearned for a friend. Another part of you was terrified to open that door and reminded you to stay vigilant. You gulped down more of your smoothie. There was too much of it left to down it all in one go. 

“Sure you don’t want any of this grand sandwich I’ve made here? It’s got the works. I know you probably like ham.”

That threw you. “Why would you assume that?”

“Because you’re hammy,” he said impassively, taking another big bite.

“I’m hammy!?”

“Hammy. Charismatic. Everyone who’s met you here ends up doing what you want them to sooner or later. Probably takes you a lot of effort to keep yourself isolated from other people the way you do.”

The blood in your veins ran cold. The tips of your ears burned. You tried to remember to breathe as Bucky continued.

“I used to be a magnetic personality, too, before the war. Took two years of therapy in Wakanda to even find the tiniest pieces of that person again. This invasion is eight weeks away. One thing I’ve learned since getting my life back, getting my  _ sense of self _ back, is that you can’t heal without some help. Friends help.”

“I don’t have any friends. I don’t have anyone anymore.” You’d said the words to yourself so many times over the years that they flowed out of you like a mantra. 

“Maybe that was true before you got here,” Bucky shrugged, “but I think you know that’s no longer true.”

Why did you feel chagrined? Bucky continued to eat his sandwich in silence as you grappled with your thoughts. 

“Hey!”

Startled at Nat’s shout, your gaze darted to your right just in time to see her pitch an object at your temple. You briefly wondered what it could have been before slumping over unconscious onto the banquette table. 


	4. Some Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a monster of a chapter (in comparison to others in this series) and I unfortunately had to upload it with my phone. I’ll edit any mobile copy/paste weirdness soon.

_“What? Don’t look at me like that.”_

_“You already tried to surprise her the first day and it didn’t work. Why’d you do it again?”_

_“We’re running out of time. I thought it would be worth it to give it another try.”_

_“Stop lying.”_

_“I leave you two alone for a month and you go and incapacitate my switch hitter. Real bang up job.”_

_“Bruce said she would be fine. I thought a big surprise would make her stop holding back; maybe something like what you said she did on the plane would happen. Besides, Bucky wouldn’t dream of letting any real harm come to her. Nearly went postal on me for knocking her out.”_

_“Is that so? What, nothing to say? You’re going back into airplane mode now since Princess Peach got bonked on the head?”_

_“Leave him alone, Tony.”_

_“She thinks she’s alone. When she breaks down, she’s going to lose control and a lot of people could get caught in the crossfire. She might never come back from it.”_

_“That why you haven’t let go of her hand?”_

_“I’m not going to apologize for it.”_

_“I know; it wasn’t an accusation. Let’s go. She’s waking up.”_

_“I’ll stay.”_

_“Come on. Let’s give her her privacy. She’ll let us in later if she wants to.”_

The voices sounded like dreams. It took a while to feel your body and move your fingers and toes. You were breathing, but not in the way you wanted, and when you felt like you might not be able to, you gasped and regained command of your movements. That’s when you felt the dull ache creep into the right side of your head.

You grunted and opened your eyes. Your room. You’d made it to your bedroom without an inkling of _how_ it happened. You started to lift up, but the sudden sting in your head put you right back down. Slowly you tried again, this time, stopped by discomfort from the IV in your right hand. The third time was the charm. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” you slurred. “How did I get here? Take me back from when I was in the common room kitchen please.”

“Maybe you’d better let Dr. Cho come and check on your IV.”

“No. Please just tell me what happened. My head is killing me.”

“You were incapacitated by Agent Romanoff in an impromptu training exercise. Impact from a full tin water bottle straight to your temple. No concussion.”

“Are you serious? An impromptu training exercise? She knocked me out! That’s – that’s really fucking mean,” you sulked.

“She said to let you know that she’s sorry and that she really thought you were going to stop the bottle before it hit your head.”

“Hmph. Yeah, sure. That still doesn’t explain how I got from the common room and into my bed with a drip. How did that happen? And what’s in the drip? Please take me through it step by step.”

“The drip is saline and ibuprofen. After you were incapacitated, you were transferred to the med bay. Dr. Cho administered the IV and determined you would regain consciousness soon, none the worse for wear save for the bruise on your temple. Dr. Banner was then called in for a second opinion. He concurred with Dr. Cho. You were then transferred to your room.”

“A second opinion? Dr. Cho is the best. Why did she call in help from Bruce if I was just was unconscious?”

“A second opinion was requested by Bucky.”

“What?!”

“It was you who asked!” F.R.I.D.A.Y. answered smartly with a hint of protest.

You sighed. You were so embarrassed. Dr Cho took the time from her busy research schedule to treat your minor injury and Bucky had the gall to question her medical opinion. 

“So, take me through this, F.R.I.D.A.Y. Nat hits me over the head, I pass out, the medics come and take me to the med bay –”

“No, Bucky carried you to the med bay with Agent Romanoff in tow. You completely lost consciousness on the way. You were examined and he carried you back here. He and Dr. Banner left only ten minutes ago.”

Bucky had been in your room! Headache be damned, you ripped the sheets off of your legs and flipped on the switch of the [ lamp ](https://andobjects.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/6-Cheriton-Desk-Lamp_001-copy.jpg) on your side table. You surveyed the partitioned part of the studio that served as your bedroom. Thankfully it was presentable. You had few objects at the tower other than a few books and your clothes. With the maintenance staff coming to clean every few days, there wasn’t a lot of opportunity for messiness.

You flopped back down in defeat. Scanning your body mentally, you realized your shoes had been removed. You only had to glance down to see them arranged neatly where your feet would likely land on the floor if you got out of bed. That was the last thing you wanted to do at the moment. The most appealing option before you was to bury yourself under your covers and stay there until you were no longer mortified. 

You did just that, but then popped up again, this time in anger. You shouldn’t be mortified. This was all Nat’s fault! 

You blew out a breath in anger and thought of how to deal with her. Was this about you getting the jump on her this morning? You didn’t think she was that petty. In fact, you knew she wasn’t. She didn’t do anything without a reason, and for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out her motive. 

“Ugghh,” you grunted and fell back into the mountain of pillows that had been propped up behind you. There were definitely more pillows than when you had left the bed this morning. You didn’t even want to ask F.R.I.D.A.Y. what the story was there. 

“Bucky has asked to see you when you’re up to it. Shall I tell him you’re awake?” F.R.I.D.A.Y. asked after you’d sat in the quiet for a minute or so.

“No, I need to lick my wounds for a bit. I’ll let you know when I’m ready for visitors. Thanks though.”

“You’re very welcome.”

What a shitshow. You were losing your grip on whatever was going on here. Only a month had passed, but your directives from Beata were long forgotten. You’d signed some more forms and suddenly your legal ability to tell her or the firm anything about what went on at the Tower were zero. One day over a fancy takeout lunch you had mentioned going back to work after this was all over and Wanda and Bruce had exchanged a look and a smile. They didn’t say anything to refute you, but you knew they were only indulging you. 

Any pretense you’d had of helping the Avengers in a researcher’s capacity had been destroyed. You spent your days with Bucky and Nat, re-reading what little information was available on the Kree from Captain Marvel in your free time. You couldn’t go on like this. Sooner or later you were going to have to give them something and the thought of it made you nauseous. 

You rolled over and wrapped yourself tighter in your sheets and duvet. Even though you shut your eyes the thoughts of it were too much. Some time, after the tears on your pillow dried, you succumbed to sleep. 

F.R.I.D.A.Y. called out your name softly until you woke. You were in your room and sunlight still shined outside. You knew only a few hours had passed, but the morning felt like an eternity ago. 

“What? What; I’m up. What time is it?” you asked as you tried to wipe the grogginess from your eyes. 

“It’s fifteen minutes until fourteen hundred hours. I wouldn’t have woken you but Bucky’s at the door. He’s insistent. Shall I let him in?”

“No!” you shot awake. “I mean, no, I’ll get the door. Let me get the door.”

You scrambled out of bed and ran your hands over your mussed workout clothes. The mirror by the door allowed you to finger comb your disheveled hair. After giving yourself one last shake awake, you opened the door. 

A penitent Bucky stood before you. His large frame held none of the insistence that F.R.I.D.A.Y. claimed he’d knocked on the door with. At a loss, you waited for him to speak first.

“Had to see for myself that you were okay. May I come in?”

“Yeah,” you assented quietly and made way for him to enter. You led him to the small living area and settled on the settee. Bucky took a seat in the adjacent soft peach-yellow Scandinavian chair. Having him over at your place seemed a little surreal and even a bit silly. He made the chair seem as though it were made for a child; his figure completely overwhelmed it. Whoever decorated the place was talented, but forgot to keep in mind the average size of the people dwelling in the newly repurchased and refurbished Avengers’ Tower. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked, interrupting your thoughts. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees with his forehead creased in concern. In the same way you often had the urge to make him smile, you wanted to ease his worry. You weren’t concerned with your secret or anything else. You kind of wanted the world for him. 

“I guess I’m fine? Or at least I will be once the pounding in my head goes away. F.R.I.D.A.Y. said there was no concussion, so I’m just nursing this bruise. Should be back in shape tomorrow.” You tried not to sound too excited or perky. You knew Bucky would see right through that. 

He nodded and sat there with you quietly. There was a tenseness in his shoulders and he didn’t look at you. 

“Hey, what’s wrong? I’m not too banged up. It’s nothing to fret over.”

“Nothing to fret over,” he repeated with a wry smile and sucked in his lips. “I worry about you all the time.”

“What!? Why?” you asked and sat up too quickly. You winced and touched your fingers to your temple. Bucky was there in an instant, moving you to recline on the settee. 

In the next moment, Bucky observed your awkward position and harrumphed in dissatisfaction. “Why is all the furniture in here so damn small?” he mumbled, taking you into his arms and rising. 

Your head hurt too much for you to register or be alarmed by his handling of your person. You were grateful when he laid you down in your bed and arranged the many new pillows behind you with haste. You closed your eyes and rubbed your temples some more, willing away the ache. In the back of your mind you’d heard Bucky leave your side, but you were still bewildered when he seemed to magic a glass of water out of nowhere. 

“Oh, wow. Thank you.” You sipped it obligingly and moved to place it on the side table. Bucky gently took the glass and set it down. 

“Thank you,” you repeated awkwardly. Bucky rose from his hunched position and took a seat on the bed’s edge by your knees. You felt that the moment was unreal; this was the most intimate you’d been with anyone since the Battle of New York, disregarding handshakes with clients. How had he managed to slip in?

Stunned that you’d let someone in so close, you chose to let Bucky make the first move. If he wanted to push, if he wanted to invade your space, you weren’t going to help by taking the lead. After several more seconds of silence he spoke your name on an exhale. 

“When you first came here I told Nat that I knew what it was like to be afraid of yourself. To be afraid of what you can do others — how you could hurt them. It’s why I ran from Steve when we fell from that helicarrier. I isolated myself so well that he had Sam run me down to the ends of the earth. I wanted to disappear and going on ice was the closest thing. Thought it was best for everyone. Wakanda showed me how wrong I was. If I didn’t think Stark would drag us back the moment we touched down, I’d take you there now.”

“What’s in Wakanda?” you asked with a hint of hope. 

“Help. The kind of help you need when you lose everything...and everyone. I know you lost your family in the Battle of New York. That on top your powers –”

You pursed your lips and shook your head. This wasn’t something you wanted to face. You didn’t know if you could. “I’m – I don’t –”

“You can tell me. We all know. It’s okay,” he insisted, pinning his eyes to yours and taking your smaller hand in both of his. “I – I want you to tell me. We need you. Sharing what’s going on in that head of yours is the first step.”

“Ha!” You were swift to wipe the tears falling down your cheeks with your free hand. You raised your eyes to the ceiling with a wan smile. “I ‘lost’ my family in the Battle of New York. You read that in my file, huh?”

“It was in the debrief on you.”

“Well, what else was in there?”

Bucky looked at you with pause but answered anyway. “Just background info. Fancy family, fancy schools. You used to have a big social life before the Battle. Tony and Bruce found you because you used your powers during a flight you took on the anniversary last year.”

“What?” you asked coldly. You tugged your hand from his. Only with a second tug did he yield and let it go.

“They figured you did it because everything stopped in a three mile radius. Only two seconds. Took a while, but Stark’s people traced it back to you.”

“No!” you slumped back into the pillows and covered your face. “That’s impossible. I would have known.”

“You’re saying it was an accident?”

“No! Yes! I mean, there would have been evidence.”

“There was. Stark and Bruce used some tech and Pepper had investigators talk to people on the flight. There wasn’t much to go on, but –”

“No, you don’t get it,” you tried to press down the wobble in your voice when you faced him again. “If I’d done it – _if I’d really used it –_ everyone on that plane would have died.”

You stared at Bucky in challenge but he only held your gaze. He nodded ever so slightly. He was content to wait until you spoke again. It gave you the strength to keep talking. 

“Stark thinks he’s got it all figured out, huh? Well, I’ve been dealing with this shit up close and personal for damn near a decade and I apparently still don’t have as good a handle on it as I thought I did. I’ve fought so hard and so long to stay in control and keep a lid on this thing. I’ll bet that wasn’t in his stupid file on me.”

“What else isn’t in it then?”

You sat up straighter, ignoring the pounding in your head, and continued with a watery sigh. “Fancy schools, fancy family. That’s an understatement. My parents were people to know. My grandfather was a society guy that lost all his money in some scandal. My dad had to drop out of Columbia. My mom was the only college friend that would still talk to him. She was popular, but she was a poor scholarship student. They fell in love, mom graduated, went into business, paid for dad to finish his degree, they went into business and philanthropy together, and made back all the money my grandfather lost and then some. Nothing mattered more to them than getting back at all the people who looked down on them. My siblings and I factored into that need for perfection. We all went to Columbia, too, and we were mainstays in the Hamptons and any and all society events in the city. Hell, my twin little sisters had gone to the Met Gala three years in a row.

“My big brother was really good at living up to their expectations, getting ready to take over from my parents. I struggled at making them happy. The twins were just cute so no one really cared as long as they stayed out of trouble – surprised us all when their little fashion business took off. When I found out I am what I am, I was terrified to tell them. So stupid. Not because I thought it was dangerous, but because I knew it would disappoint them to have to explain that their middle child was one of _those_ people. I promised myself that if I ignored it and didn’t tell a soul, it would be like it never happened and everything could go on as normal. 

“But then I met [ Zhicheng ](https://tvislove.files.wordpress.com/2016/08/gg04.jpg).” You took a deep breath. The tears were flowing freely now and you tried to hold down your hiccups. Taking the hem of your shirt, you dabbed your eyes and sniffed with a watery smile. “I’m sorry. I just realized I haven’t said his name out loud in years.”

Bucky rubbed your knee over your comforter. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“We’d been friends since grad school. Heh, one day he said we should just start calling our hangouts dates. I was so happy. We spent every waking moment together. I’d never been able to trust someone so completely.”

“So you told him.”

“Yeah. He always thought that I should do something with it but he respected my decision to keep it under wraps. He knew my parents would freak and knew how fucked up my dynamic with them was so he didn’t push, even though he resented them for it. Kind of funny actually – my parents loved him. The son of a notable foreign family in Big Tech was a good look for them. I’d finally done something right. 

“Zhicheng always loved that I had three siblings and lots of extended family. Both his of parents were only children and he didn’t have any siblings because of the one-child policy in China. He wanted to make his proposal really special and there was nothing my mom loved more than a big party – which was only a preamble to the massive wedding I’m sure my mom was already planning in her back pocket. I later found out she’d already put down hold deposits at seven venues that week.

“They decided on a surprise party of epic proportions, so they rented out the [ Bay Room ](https://images.getbento.com/accounts/01600bfe468fb7499c49ad84b87571b3/media/images/73281August_2018_Bay_Room_PDR__6.jpg) and made sure _everyone_ we knew was there. My entire family, Zhicheng’s parents and grandparents, our closest friends from college, and grad school, and growing up, our coworkers, our parents’ friends, hell, even the frenemies they wanted to show off to. B-List celebrities that were customers of the twins. My brother’s Wall Street set. Everyone. See, it was all a strategy on my mom’s part to make invitations to the actual wedding more exclusive or something. There was only one person that couldn’t make it. Beata was in the middle of giving birth to her twins. Her water had just broken that morning. 

“I’d been out of town and Zhicheng picked me up from the airport. He was wearing this [ blue linen suit ](https://www.asiaone.com/sites/default/files/original_images/May2015/20150518_godfrey_tnp.jpg) and he had a dress for me and I knew instantly that he and mom had cooked something up, but I didn’t even care because I thought he was so beautiful and I was so lucky and so happy to be with him. Before we walked in to the party he gave me an out. Told me I didn’t ‘have to say yes’ and that we could walk in there like it was a big birthday party. I rushed him with this big hug before he could even finish making excuses. I remember that very distinctly actually. Just saying ‘yes, yes, yes’ into his into his neck and smelling [ his cologne ](https://www.sephora.com/product/terre-d-hermes-eau-intense-vetiver-P435313). It smelled like oranges and vetiver and pepper. God, it smelled so good. 

“Anyway, by that time there had only been reports of ‘possibly related accidents and explosions’ around the city. Everyone was too busy celebrating to stay glued to the news until we weren’t and the Bay Room management told us the streets were chaos and it was best to stay put. No need to tell us twice — the fucking Chitauri raining from the sky was enough to make guests gawk or hide under tables, let alone go anywhere. 

“Zhicheng’s arms were around me and I remember feeling terrified in spite of that. One of the [ Leviathans ](https://thumbs.gfycat.com/FarawayReliableAmericanblackvulture-size_restricted.gif) was ramming its way through the skyline. Everyone was panicking and screaming as it got closer. We were so high up. We all knew there was no way we would survive if it even brushed the side of the building. 

“He took my face in his hands when it was maybe a half mile off and he looked me in the eyes and said to me ‘Honey, you can do this. I’ve got you, I _love_ you, I believe in you, and you can do this.’ And just like that, I wasn’t afraid anymore.

“I kissed him, I looked that fucking thing straight in eye — wherever the hell its eyes were — and everything stopped. It was quiet and still and I was me. I could feel the _complete stillness_ and I was holding it. Loosely, not quite as hard as I could. It was working and I thought it was okay. When I thought I could control it I let go. I let go and everything — _everyone —_ just fell. [ Fell ](https://theinsightfulpanda.files.wordpress.com/2015/04/avengers-destruction.png) like I dropped them. The Leviathan didn’t resume any motion. It crashed to the ground below, mostly in the street.

“I thought if I tried hard enough I’d be able to resuscitate Zhicheng with CPR. I think I lasted an hour before collapsing on top of his body from exhaustion. They found me like that, just laying there among the dead, curled up right beside him. They said it had been thirty-two hours since the Incident had finished. Said I somehow survived the Chitauri Leviathan ‘discharge’ that took it out along with everyone within a sixty meter radius. I knew the truth though.”

You didn’t move when you stopped speaking. You didn’t wipe your face of the tears that flowed freely. Bucky’s hand on your knee was the only thing keeping you from evaporating or melting. It felt as if you could would do both at any moment. 

Bucky gave you a small pat and moved to take your hands in his. He rubbed them and you noticed how cold and brittle they felt even though you’d been clenching and unclenching them over the bedding. His wet crystalline eyes looked down on you with pity and your body went tight. He didn’t get it but he looked like he was going to try to explain to you anyway. 

“Look, I know you might not want to hear this, but it wasn’t —”

“Wasn’t what? Wasn’t my fault? Kind of the exact opposite actually. I took a risk and I lost — big time. I made a choice and it was the wrong one. If I hadn’t, we’d all be dead, but at least we would have all been dead together. God knows how many times I wish this shit came with a little time travel so I could turn back the clock and go out with them.”

Instantly, Bucky’s hands gripped the sides of your arms. His hold was just shy of pain and you thought you could feel the urgency vibrating off of him. “Don’t you _ever_ say that again,” he gritted quietly. “Do you hear me?”

You wanted to reassure him, but you shook your head. All you could do was cry, this time with sobs that racked your body. “I didn’t lose everyone in the Battle, Bucky. I _killed_ them. Sure, it was an accident and it sucks, but I’m still here alone without anyone who ever meant anything to me.”

Your vision was gone even before your buried your face in your hands, but you sensed Bucky take you into his arms. Somewhere beyond your despair, you were thankful. He was the only thing holding you up. Even as your wails made you cough and sputter, he patted and rubbed your back. After several minutes, you finally made sense of the words he cooed into your hair on repeat.

“You don’t have to be alone. We’re here. I’m here.”


End file.
